


Together

by robotsdance



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdance/pseuds/robotsdance
Summary: Niles and Daphne are together now and Niles has never been this happy in his whole life.





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to [Adore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142577)

They’re in Daphne’s room and she’s got him pinned to her bed as she straddles his hips and there are marks on his skin already from when she dragged her fingernails down his chest in her urgency to set the tone for this encounter and he’s got his hands on her under her shirt which she is frantically removing and she’s telling him in no uncertain terms what she wants right now and what she wants is him and he is hers for the taking now and always and he’s always been hers but now she knows and she knows and she knows and she knows and she wants him too and they’re in her room and he will never get over the fact that this is a normal part of his life now.

*

There is a critical typo in the movie listings in the newspaper and the movie they were going to see had started 35 minutes prior to their arrival. Daphne had been wanting to see a movie all week so they opt to see something else instead. Neither of them knows what else is playing by title, so they ask for two tickets to whatever starts playing next and proceed to the concession stand.

There is no one else in the theatre when they go in and sit down and they joke about having a private screening of a movie neither of them have ever heard of, though they are both certain that other people will show up before it starts, but when the lights go down fifteen minutes later they are still the only ones there.

Daphne finishes her popcorn by the time the movie starts and finishes her chocolate by ten minutes after that, and the movie is evidently to her taste no more than it is to Niles’, because her hand, which had been casually holding Niles’ hand since she finished her popcorn begins to wander up and down his forearm.

He steals a glance at her. Her eyes are still on the screen, her expression neutral, but he can feel the spark of mischief in her. This goes on for a little while, her teasing him with her touch. He’s trying to match her level of non-reaction, staring determinedly at the movie playing in front of him (he could not name a single character in said movie to save his life) while wondering how long she will keep this up before…

He either caves or makes the next move (he’s not sure which and he doesn’t care) moving his hand to her knee and tracing a small infinity loop with his finger. Out of the corner of his eye he watches her watch the movie as he moves his thumb back and forth, enough to make sure that she knows that his touch is as deliberate as hers.

A few minutes later, when his guard has dropped a little, she covers his hand with hers and then moves it up her thigh while she casually leans over to take a sip of soda. His hand that isn’t on her leg is gripping the armrest tightly but he keeps moving his hand in a would-be casual fashion as if she hadn’t just-

He can feel his poker face slipping, his giddiness bubbling to the surface, but he masters himself and looks resolutely ahead at the screen in front of them.

She leans towards him without taking her eyes off the screen and he gravitates towards her, their shoulders brushing against one another as their heads tilt conspiringly closer together. She doesn’t say anything at first, but he doesn’t move away from her because he can feel her teetering on the edge of something worth waiting for.

“Do you have any idea what this movie is about?” she whispers in perfect deadpan and it is so funny and charming and Daphne that he cracks up and loses all facade of casual indifference to the game they’ve been playing in an instant.

“Not a clue,” he snickers into her shoulder.

They make out relentlessly until the credits roll and the house lights come back on to tug them back to reality.

*

She’s so close that she’s writhing against the sheets wth abandon as she babbles a mix of encouragement and his name and noises so obscene he can think of nothing but helping her make them as often as humanly possible and he can feel her trembling with the effort of restraining from grinding hard against his tongue to finish as she bucks against his touch. Another few seconds and he’ll have her among the stars like the goddess she is but quite suddenly she tells him to stop.

He pulls back at once and looks up at her with concern but she grabs him by the shirt and tugs him back up towards her face before he has time to even begin to ask her what’s wrong as she starts scrambling at his belt as she gasps, “Want you— inside me— when I—”

Exquisite all-consuming lust jolts through him and in a flurry of activity he reaches down and manages to undo his belt the rest of the way as she shoves his pants down to his thighs.

She moans in perfect ecstasy when he complies with her request. 

*

Out of nowhere one rainy Sunday afternoon Daphne pulls him close as if she means to kiss him but she stops short and murmurs, “What’s our safeword?” and so much blood rushes away from his brain so quickly that it’s all he can do to answer her in a breathless gasp.

*

Their safeword is an intimacy Niles cherishes. From the moment Daphne gave it to him and made him repeat it back to her that first time it was one of his most precious gifts from her.

Their safeword.

Niles had never been given a safeword before, not ever, which would make it remarkable enough, but a safeword with Daphne? Even the concept makes his chest swell with joy and gratitude: Daphne gave him a safeword. A safe word. A word that prioritizes their safety and comfort and pleasure. He and Daphne. Have a safeword. A safeword they use while they have sex. A safeword they use while having sex that even his wildest dreams couldn’t hold a candle to.

He lives for the moments when it hangs between them as she pushes him to the very edge of what he can endure, his body and his pain and his pleasure completely at her command because he chooses to give her such power. He loves that he can feel the safeword unspoken between them in every moment that follows its implementation. Always an option for both of them.

Their safeword is a full stop, but before it means “stop and check in” it is part of the beginning. Before Daphne does anything that might make him incoherent with pleasure or submission (or any number of combinations of the two) she asks for their safeword. The first time he answers her with the safeword in this context it means “Go”, and any time after that it means “Stop and check in”.

It is quickly becoming his very favourite word.

*

“Okay,” she hesitates, “But I don’t expect you to actually want to—“

“Daphne, whatever it is, you can tell me.” They’re in bed at his place and she’s wearing a pair of his silk pyjamas that she borrowed weeks ago and clearly has no intention of giving back and he has absolutely no complaints whatsoever.

“No, it’s silly.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he reassures her, “I’ve told you some of mine.”

“It’s just…you’re always so put together. I’ve always rather fancied the notion of ripping those fancy clothes right off you, but I know how you are about your clothes so I would never—“

“Daphne,” he chuckles in surprise that she was so worried about having such a fantasy, “You can tear off my clothes whenever you like.”

“Oh no,” she says as she waves his offer aside, “I might destroy one of your irreplaceable—“

“I’d be delighted if you did—“

“Some of your clothes cost more than I—“

“I promise,” he says, “I would never get upset over—“

This time she laughs, “I’ve seen how you are about your suits. And I’d hate to ruin your, I don’t know, favourite hand-stitched blazer or something in a moment of passion.”

It takes him a moment to get his train of thought away from picturing any number of variants upon such a moment of passion (all of which he finds deeply favourable) enough to say, “Daphne, I assure you, there’s not an item in my closet I wouldn’t rather sacrifice to your passions.” It comes out in such a rush, the way such statements would before he and Daphne got together, back when he’d have to stammer and back-peddle to cover his tracks as Frasier shushed him. That his life is now filled with such statements being spoken aloud directly still feels miraculous.

“You say that now,” Daphne laughs, “But when it’s your custom tailored jacket in tatters hanging from a bookcase or a ceiling fan you’ll be singing a different tune.”

He’s picturing such an event right now and is unable to do more than his best goldfish impression for several seconds before he says, “How about this: we’ll figure out a signal, or better yet, a small token. If whatever I’m wearing is fair game, I’ll put the token in my jacket pocket. That way you’ll just need to feel if it’s there to know you have my absolute permission to do whatever you see fit to whatever I’m wearing.”

“You’d carry something around on the off chance I’d want to rip your clothes off?” Daphne asks, somehow surprised by this information.

“Uh, YEAH,” he exclaims like his every dream is coming true. He tries to tone it down when he continues, but he still sounds like this is his personal best case scenario, “Whatever we decide, I’ll keep it in my right breast pocket. My phone and my handkerchief are always on the left. This one will be all yours.”

“I kind of like the idea of having a secret code,” Daphne says, her eyes twinkling, “Something only we will know what it means, something I can check for when my mind starts to wander at the opera or one of your fancy parties…”

“What should it be?” Niles asks, desperate to get whatever this magical item is into his pocket as soon as possible, “It can’t be too big or bulky, but you’d need to be able to feel it. Something bigger than a coin, but not a whole lot wider.”

“I have just the thing,” Daphne says as she rushes out of the bedroom and returns with her purse. She sits back down beside Niles and starts digging through it until she finds what she is looking for and hands it to Niles.

Niles looks down at the gaudy gold coin a little bigger than a poker chip with a sparkly unicorn in the middle, “Where did you even get this?”

“It was my favourite keychain back in the day, but it broke. So I tossed it in my purse years ago. I’ve changed purses half a dozen times since then, but I always bring the unicorn along. I thought it might come in handy one day.”

“And so it will,” he says, “Shall we test proof of concept?”

When she nods he drops the unicorn coin into the breast pocket of his pyjamas, and she reaches out to feel it through the fabric as mirroring grins spread across their faces.

“So any time you have that in your pocket,” Daphne says, “I’ll know I can have my way with you without worrying what happens to the clothes you’re wearing.”

“Yes exactly,” Niles agrees in hushed awe as he takes the broken unicorn keychain out of his pocket and admires it for its now magical properties, turning it over and over in his hands unable to believe he has been given something that means exactly what this unicorn keychain does. He puts the unicorn keychain back in the pocket of his pyjamas on his chest and pats it twice to make sure it is secure as Daphne laughs and smacks him playfully on the shoulder as he giggles.

*

Tucking the broken unicorn keychain into the inner pocket of his suit jacket becomes an immediate part of his routine. Keys. Wallet. Phone. Handkerchief. Broken Unicorn Keychain.

He is never without it.

*

“Hold me down,” he asks her, his voice rough with desire. He’s getting better about asking for things like this, but it still surprises him to hear himself asking for something like this so readily. Back in the day, before they were together, comments of a similar theme would burst from him at inopportune times around her, and he would stutter and retract whatever he said but he never… God he had no idea how good it would feel to get to ask her for something like this, “Please.”

She leans hard against his chest, letting him feel the weight of her body over his before reaching for his wrists. When she squeezes her agreement against his skin as she pushes him more firmly against the mattress he feels submission flood his bloodstream as Daphne consumes his senses and the rest of the world fades out of existence.

*

Niles is helping himself to some sherry at Frasier’s and Daphne is on the phone with one of her friends and when he is making his way across the living room she mentions having plans that evening with her boyfriend and his heart leaps and he bounces on the balls of his feet with the goofiest smile. Daphne notices and trails her hand across his chest as he walks by and he floats the rest of the way to the couch.

When she hangs up a few minutes later she joins him on the couch and asks, “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he grins as he bounces his knees, “You just said ‘my boyfriend’ and that’s me.”

She smiles and leans over and bumps her shoulder against his, “You are, aren’t you?”

He leans to bump her back. “I’m your boyfriend,” he says with barely restrained euphoria.

*

They come back to Frasier’s after dinner and settle on the couch with a couple of glasses of good wine and the next time either of them care to look at a clock it is almost two in the morning.

“You can stay over,” Daphne offers in response to his third yawn in as many minutes.

“You sure?” Niles asks, doing his best to stifle another yawn, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Of course I’m sure,” she says, hitting his shoulder, “You know I like it when I get to steal you away to my room.”

He returns her grin as the memories of his recent visits to her room rise to the surface of his consciousness.

“Of course,” she says as she fiddles with his tie, “You’re exhausted. You probably want to get some sleep…”

He pounces on her like a tiger as she laughs with delight before she drags him back into her room and kicks the door closed behind them.

*

Niles comes home from work one evening and finds Daphne dusting the mantel place wearing a french maid’s outfit. She was already turning to look over at the door when she heard his key in the lock and when she smiles at him his knees buckle at the sight of her.

He doesn’t go down without a fight though, the part of him that can only faint dead away at such a vision at all out war with the part of him that must say conscious, each fighting for dominance as he staggers forward, his hands grabbing onto anything to slow his fall as he stumbles towards her knocking over two lamps and a chair before bouncing off the coffee table and hitting the floor with a thud.

He can hear the concern in Daphne’s voice as she asks if he’s alright as she rushes over to check on him and he feels light-headed but he keeps his eyes open as he replies from where he lies as she kneels down beside him, “I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m stupendous. I’m—“

“I never should have put this on without warning you,” she says as she strokes his forehead, but she looks an endearing combination of flattered and amused by this turn of events.

“Maybe,” he admits as he gazes up at her, “But I’m glad you did.”

“You don’t say,” she smirks as she taps his nose with her feather duster.

*

He rolls off her and collapses against mattress with a breathless moan. His whole body feels like it’s made out of the jello dessert Daphne made last week and his brain is mush. Deliriously happy mush.

“What were we fighting about again?” Daphne asks still a little out of breath as she pushes a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead.

Niles laughs as he looks over at her. She looks as well-fucked as he feels, “I don’t remember.”

“Me neither,” Daphne replies turning on her side to look at him, “Think it was important?”

“Probably not,” Niles answers honestly, not even bothering to try and prod his mind to focus on the subject of the fight, as his body is all too happy to remember the electric friction between them it had caused. He shifts so he is facing her, “Why?”

“I was just thinking,” Daphne says coyly, walking two of her fingers up his chest, “We might need to fight about it again.”

*

“Remember that conversation we had about a week ago?” Niles asks as they are finishing putting away the dishes after dinner at his place one night, “You know, about our next roleplaying adventure?”

“Yes?” Daphne replies as she puts cutlery back in the drawer and looks over at him with interest.

“Well… I took the liberty of going out and getting a costume,” Niles confesses.

Daphne grins as she admits, “So did I.”

“I’ll put on mine and you put on yours and then let the rescue begin?” Niles asks in a rush of enthusiasm that coincides with him putting away the last of the plates. He almost knocks them all over when Daphne smacks his ass and tells him to meet her upstairs when he’s done.

They disappear into separate rooms to change and when Niles is satisfied he’s gotten his knight’s tunic on right and his sword belted to his waist he strides out of his walk-in closet expecting to find Daphne waiting for him. When she’s not there he calls her name, but she doesn’t answer.

A smile spreads across his face as he realizes that she must have chosen a different room in the apartment from which he will have to find and rescue her. The library is the obvious choice he thinks immediately. If he were trapped in some sort of medieval fairytale tower by some sort of magic or curse he would certainly make use of the library. And so Sir Niles sets off on his quest to rescue his beloved, ready to slay dragons or whatever else comes across his path.

But Daphne isn’t in the library. Or the study. Or the living room or the guest room or the gift wrapping room or the balcony. He’s on the verge of calling out to her when he hears her calling his name from another room. He answers with her name, and she calls back to him and he lets his imagination take over again, thinking of the many days and nights he has traveled across the land to find her as he moves towards the sound of her beautiful voice. When at last he can hear her in the next room he pauses for a moment to get into character as much as possible before opening the door and rushing forward in triumph.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her and across the room Daphne does the exact same thing when she sees him.

Daphne is dressed up as a knight too.

There’s a moment of stunned silence where they both take in what the other is wearing (Daphne’s tunic is a deep blue with a golden lion on the front, Niles’ is scarlet with a dragon, but they both have matching silly plastic swords), and then an increasing sense of deep amusement as they both replay the conversation they’d had about this particular roleplaying idea and come to the same conclusion at the same time and burst out laughing.

“I guess we should have clarified which roles we’d be playing,” Niles laughs as he leans against a nearby chair to keep himself upright.

“I suppose so,” Daphne giggles.

Niles is aware that there are versions of this scenario where he feels embarrassed or ashamed that Daphne came to the conclusion she did but he doesn’t feel at all embarrassed or emasculated or anything but giddy delight at their little misunderstanding. Because he would, quite simply, love to be rescued by Daphne this way. The idea of him being locked in a tower and her mounting a daring rescue is most intriguing and more than a little sexy. And given some of the other roleplaying scenarios they’ve already explored he absolutely gets why she came to the conclusion she did. God, he loves her so much.

He makes up his mind as they’re both still reeling with mirth at the outcome of their miscommunication because their shared delight is the sexist thing he can imagine.

“My knight in shining armour,” Sir Niles swoons.

She smiles (his knees go predictably weak), and he can already tell she’s game before Sir Daphne replies, “My love, I thought I’d never see you again!”

*

“Next time,” Daphne says as she traces her fingers delicately across his forearm, “We can both be locked in the tower together.”

Niles smiles into her shoulder, “You’re on.”

*

She’s talking dirty to him, describing any number of things she’s done to him and what she wants to do to him and he adores when talks to him like this. Somehow everything they do together sounds even more amorous when described by Daphne. He’s already as incoherent as is to be expected as she talks about how much she loves getting to take control and mark him up and make him feel it the next day and the day after that and how she loves when he-

He groans and agrees to it all. All she has to do is ask and he’s all hers. Whatever she wants. She knows that. She knows that. He loves that she knows that.

Then she mentions something they definitely haven’t done yet and she stops talking abruptly, as if shocked such a suggestion even came out of her mouth, as if worried she’s gone too far or he’s about to safeword out or draw a line or-

“We can do that,” he answers immediately, not even having to think about it.

“You’d let me do that to you?” she asks, pulling back enough to look at his face, “Just like that?”

He nods, “Absolutely.”

She’s looking at him carefully, as if looking for signs he’s not in the headspace to consent to such a thing, giving him space to change his mind either now or any time in the future, as she confesses, “I’ve never done that before.”

“Neither have I,” he says, “But I’m game if you are.”

*

“So you can make me more of these?” Niles asks the local artisan behind the counter.

This is the first weekend Daphne has been out of town since the broken unicorn keychain came into his life (so it’s the first time he can safely remove the unicorn keychain from his breast pocket as she isn’t around to make use of the consent it gives) and he is eager to put his plan for backups in motion. He’s beyond careful with the broken unicorn keychain as it is, checking on it multiple times a day, but all the same, he’ll feel much better if he knows that he is prepared, just in case, god forbid, something ever happened to it.

“I can,” the woman confirms, though very much silently questioning why anyone would want to go to such lengths and expense for twelve perfect replicas of a broken unicorn keychain that was purchased for a few dollars at most.

But Niles hands over his credit card without even asking how much it will cost.

*

“Oh Daphne.” he breathes as he melts into the mattress, “Oh my God.”

“You okay down there?” she asks. There’s a playful edge to it, but he knows she’s checking in. He doesn’t currently have the strength to open his eyes he can tell she’s smiling.

His heart is still pounding as if it wishes to escape the confines of his ribcage but all the tension she had been so expertly torturing him with for the last god knows how long is gone and he feels like he’s drifting through time and space and—

“I’ll be right back Love,” she says as she leans in to kiss him and he grins what he knows must be a very dopey grin back at her without opening his eyes.

She returns a couple minutes later and he feels the mattress shift as she sits down beside him before he feels a warm washcloth on his stomach.

He opens his eyes to look at her.

“Is it too warm?” she asks, misreading his expression.

Niles shakes his head as he tries to assure her that no, the cloth isn’t too warm, as his throat tightens and he blinks to control the rush of emotions coursing through his system. Daphne is so thoughtful and kind and he would never ever expect or even ask for a damp cloth to clean off the evidence of his utmost enjoyment of their previous activities from his stomach but she… she just….

She loves him so much. It’s still so overwhelming, to love and be loved in return like this. Other women have enjoyed messing him up a little, but Daphne is the only one who takes such pleasure in dismantling him completely and then lovingly putting him back together. She’s the only one he’s ever trusted enough to let her do this to him. She’s the only one he’s ever loved like this and she loves him back and—

“I’m sorry,” he says, trying to shake off how dangerously close to tears he feels.

“It’s alright,” she assures him, as she leans down to stroke the side of his face, “It’s normal to get a bit emotional afterwards. Especially after trying something like that for the first time. You did great. How do you feel?”

A sound that’s as much a joyful laugh as it is a sob escapes him and he wishes he could rip open his chest and release some of these emotions into a larger space. His mortal body wasn’t built to hold such feelings inside it, his brain not equipped to translate what he’s feeling into words. The ones he finds feel cliche and trite, but Daphne asked, so he will do his best to answer.

*

They are almost exactly the same height. If they’re both in bare feet he’s a hair taller, but for all intents and purposes they’re the same height, which means Daphne gets to choose the height difference if they’re wearing shoes, and boy does he love when she uses it.

He was a fool to ever ask her to stop wearing heels he thinks as he stares up at her, and he is so grateful that they got past the stage where they were both insecure wrecks about not being able to live up to the others' expectations. He had recanted his request that she not wear heels shortly after she got back from the spa and apologized for ever making it in the first place and given the power to decide their height difference on any given day back to Daphne where it belonged.

Tonight he’s already taken off his shoes but she’s still wearing the shoes she wore out to dinner, which means the inches between their eyelines are as pronounced as they ever are when they’re both standing (and drastic enough to remind him of the times when he’s even lower down her body for other reasons that are also very much about Daphne being in control). 

“Come down here,” he teases as he makes a production of tilting his chin to gaze up at her.

She makes a bit of a show of taking her time to look down at him before she replies with playful seriousness, the challenge of it dancing in her eyes as she traces his jaw with the lightest touch, making his head tip up towards her even more as she does, “Make me.”

He shivers with anticipation, the thrill of submission already flooding his system as if she’d flipped a switch somewhere deep in his brain. He’s ready to play her game however she wants to play it tonight, but he needs to be sure that’s what she wants right now, so he swallows and asks, “Is that an order?”

She makes him wait for her answer long enough for his universe to be consumed by only her in the way that makes his pulse quicken with joy before she says, “Yes.”

*

Lying naked on his back with his hips tilted just so with Daphne kneeling between his spread thighs, Niles feels profoundly vulnerable and perfectly safe, the combination of which is as intoxicating as it is intimate. Once upon a time he’d had his doubts about enjoying this sort of thing, but then Daphne had expressed interest in trying it and so they had and now… well now he is more than happy to give himself to her this way whenever it strikes her fancy (or whenever he’s brave enough to ask for it…). His whole body is tingling with anticipation and when she slides her slick gloved fingers deliberately across his inner thighs he squirms a little and shifts closer to her touch and he grins when he feels the tip of her strap-on brushing against his skin. He’s almost painfully hard but she told him not to touch himself yet so his hands are at his side, his fingers twisting in the sheets already.

He’s ready. He’s been ready for ages now but she’s intent on giving this process the time and care he deserves (her words, not his) but maybe, just maybe…

“What’s our safeword Niles?” she asks softly.

Only once he has answered does she reach for the bottle of lube again.

*

“So we’re just going to go in there and buy rope?” Niles asks for the fifth time as he parks the car, “Rope that you’re going to use to… to…”

“Yes Niles,” she says patiently, “It’s a hardware store. Lots of people buy rope there.” He can feel himself blushing even as she rolls her eyes and continues, “They’ll let us buy rope without knowing what it’s for. And I told you, the stuff at the specialty shop was way too expensive for what it was. And this way you’ll be able to get a feel for the rope before we buy it.”

“You expect me to fondle the rope?!” Niles exclaims, “In public?!”

“For the last time Niles. It’s just rope. It’s just a hardware store. They’ll think we’re tying up a boat or something. No one but us will know what it’s really for.”

“But we know what it’s for,” Niles says under his breath and is rewarded with a smile from Daphne as the automatic doors welcome them into a high-ceilinged warehouse full of tools and lumber and, apparently, rope. He can’t help but flutter with excitement as Daphne leads them to the end of a long aisle that has, among other things, over two dozen large spools of different types of rope.

Niles steps back to marvel at the overwhelming number of options as Daphne steps forward and starts feeling each type of rope in turn. When she notices Niles isn’t right beside her she beckons him forward and takes his hand in hers before she leans in to explain her criteria for a good choice for their purposes (thick enough to be comfortable, soft enough to be easy to tie, smooth enough to not overwhelm him with additional stimulation…).

Niles actually pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

*

They’re at an event of Frasier’s that neither of them particularly cares for and Daphne is a little extra flirty tonight and it’s driving Niles crazy in the best way. He can’t wait to leave, but he knows they’ve hardly qualified as having made an appearance. On the other side of the room Frasier is in full media mode which Niles finds irritating at best and stomach churning at worst but they can’t leave yet so here they are and the night keeps dragging on.

Daphne can feel his restlessness and she leans in a little closer to him and touches his chest. No one else in the room would notice it, but Niles stands up a little straighter at the contact. Her left hand is sliding down his chest. He knows she can feel the keychain in his pocket and he watches her register that piece of information as her smile shifts to what the rest of the people in the room would consider polite interest but that Niles sees for exactly what it is.

His brain lurches out of Frasier social event survival mode and into a glorious selection of possibilities for what Daphne has in store for him.

*

They’re talking about their day as they get ready for bed and it’s casual and ordinary in the way that Niles still can’t believe is normal. Daphne is brushing her teeth in his bathroom and changing into pyjamas she leaves at his place for when she stays over (that used to be his but they’ve long since accepted that they’re hers now), which is a regular occurrence.

“So,” Daphne says, “I was thinking about that purchase we made a little while ago…”

Suddenly he’s not feeling very tired at all, “Do you want to… you know…?”

“If you want to,” she says, “We don’t have to.”

“No I want to. I definitely want to,” Niles grins as she disappears and reappears with the rope they had bought a few weeks prior, as well as what Niles recognizes as first aid scissors and places them on the bedside table.

“Just in case,” she says, (she had discussed safety precautions at length when they’d first floated this idea) before looking right at him, “What’s our safeword?”

As soon as he answers she wraps the rope around his wrist and loops it in and around itself in such a way that Niles doesn’t follow but he can immediately feel that the rope won’t tighten unexpectedly as she then ties the other end of it to the bedpost with staggering efficiency.

“How’s that?” she asks as Niles stares at her, his expression no doubt locked between shock and arousal.

He tugs on his binding and it’s clear he’s not going anywhere. The tension on his wrist is perfect. Secure but in no way uncomfortable. Inescapable, not that he would ever want to escape.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Niles breathes in awe, working hard to maintain coherent sentences.

“You don’t grow up with my brothers and not learn a few knots along the way,” Daphne says offhand, “It’s the sort of thing that one of them learned in Boy Scouts for pitching tents and surviving in the wilderness that they then all used to tie Michael to the kitchen chairs when he was annoying them.”

The story keeps going and Niles does his best to hang in there, but soon he interrupts as politely as he can, “Um, Daphne? Could we not talk about your brothers right now?”

She laughs, and her laugh is music to his ears, his most favourite song, better than any symphony ever written without question, and then she takes his hand in hers (the one she hasn’t yet restrained) before she says, “Of course My Love.”

*

Daphne sits down beside him on the couch and he leans over, nudging her shoulder with his, and she pats his arm with her hand in response. Niles will never tire of this.

Niles adores their secret language of whacks and taps that they share and all of it’s variants. It’s something they’ve been doing since before they were together, back when it meant almost the same thing it does now, but with none of the certainty of the feelings being shared. Sometimes it’s them playfully swatting at each other. Sometimes it’s a little shoulder bump and the answering tap. Sometimes it’s her patting his arm at a social event and him tapping her back. Sometimes it’s them shoving each other back and forth as they laugh, reeling away from each other far more dramatically than the contact requires and then bouncing back to return the gesture. Sometimes it’s him squeezing her ass during foreplay knowing she’s counting and will spank him exactly the number of times he’s asked for in return.

And every time it’s them.

It’s them it’s them it’s them.

*

He should have known better than to try and plan the perfect mid-week escape for them. He absolutely should have known better, should have known the universe would not allow something he planned to go off without a hitch. There’d been construction and a road closure that had added almost two hours to their travel time. He’d forgotten the wine he was going to bring and the evening that the weather report had promised would be crystal clear for stargazing later that night had clouded over before they’d even arrived at their destination.

He should have called it then and found a restaurant but they walked down to many steps from the lake house to the dock and laid out the picnic they had planned, hopeful the clouds would clear by the time they finished the main course.

So of course it started to rain.

They are a frenzy of activity as they gather the things they brought, made extra challenging because the wind seems to be increasing in speed with every passing second. Daphne is holding the umbrella as Niles makes to grab a toppled wine glass that’s rolling towards the water at an alarming rate as Daphne puts her foot on the blanket to keep it from blowing away.

“Niles. Niles!”

He drops the supplies he had thus far managed to grab into the basket on his way back to Daphne’s side, and he steps back under the umbrella with her as the sky opens up and the rain goes from picnic-ending to torrential downpour, “Are you alright?” he asks, “I’m sorry this is such a disaster.”

But Daphne isn’t looking at him like this a disaster, and he finds himself relaxing as he watches at her. So what if the meal he spent all day preparing ends up feeding some fish tonight if Daphne is looking at him the way she is, full of love and life and—

Daphne lowers her hand and lets the umbrella fall away somewhere in the edge of his peripheral vision (he couldn’t look away from Daphne right now if he tried) and the storm claims them as suddenly as if they’d jumped in the lake. He’s soaked to the skin in seconds but he doesn't react to the sensation because Daphne is looking at him and he’s looking back at her and the rumble of thunder in the distance can’t shift his focus from her even a little.

The space between them is crackling with the same intensity as the lightening that forks across the horizon and for a moment of time he couldn’t measure in a known metric to save his life they just look at each other and wait.

He’s the one who closes the distance between them because she wants him to and as soon as he does she responds, oh god does she ever respond, as they draw each other closer and kiss the way they do when they remember they’re still those two people who once stood on a balcony on the eve of her wedding to another man and kissed on the edge of forever.

*

They’re in Frasier’s kitchen cooking together one evening and it is so familiar yet so enchanting and he can’t stop smiling at her. Echoes of those countless small everyday intimacies they’d shared and quietly cherished over the years linger in the kitchen with them as they work as a team and pass utensils back and forth and bump into each other more than could be considered accidental and when she whacks his arm as she giggles at one of his little jokes he gleefully whacks her back, knowing full well she will smack him again and sure enough she does, so he does, then she does again and they’re both giggling as they take turns swatting at each other until she catches his wrist and steps into his space, pressing up against him with her whole body in a single rush to kiss him so hard he sees stars.

*

He doesn’t love Bananarama and he doesn’t love the parachute pants she made him wear but he loves Daphne and he loves that he’s here with her now and he loves that she’s so happy to be here and with him and he still can’t believe that his life is filled with moments like this now.

It hits him then, as it often does when he’s at a Daphne Event, that there was a time he would have sold his soul for a night like this: Daphne and him out in the world together. On a date. A real date. He could, he thinks, die happy here because she’s holding his hand and she’s so happy and she wants to share her joy with him.

Daphne jumps up and down at the start of the next song that Niles won’t like but it doesn’t matter because before the women on stage start singing Daphne pulls him close and sings along, coming in right on cue:

_he used to be a shy boy_  
_until I made him my boy_

And she’s touching his chest (the unicorn keychain is there, right where it should be) and she’s dancing and she’s still singing all of the ridiculous lyrics that she knows every single word to and he loves her he loves her he loves her he loves her he loves her he loves her he loves her.

*

She touches his chest and then grabs his lapel with both hands and hauls him over the threshold of the bedroom and a few rapturous seconds later Niles hears the sound of a broken unicorn keychain bouncing out of his jacket pocket and rolling across the hardwood floor.

*

He’s still blissed out and giddy from their morning activities and he’s going to be late for his coffee with Frasier but there’s not a force on earth that could prevent him from spending the extra minute in front of the mirror mapping out each and every mark Daphne left on his skin.

As soon as he catches sight of himself in the mirror he gasps, actually feeling his brain short circuit at the sight of it. It’s a little crude in its formation, but it’s there, unmistakably there, right there on his shoulder:

Daphne’s initials.

“Oh my God.”

“Found it did you?” she asks from the other room.

“Daphne I…” he’s at a complete loss for words, speechless in the light of her love. He’d joked about this exact scenario whenever she’d noticed him admiring the marks she’d left but he never…. not in a million years did he dream that she’d actually do it.

Daphne wanders into the bathroom wearing a robe and smirks at the sight of him tracing the D on his skin with reverence.

“Thank you Daphne,” he gushes, his whole body overrun with feelings he’ll only ever be able to describe with her name. Daphne Daphne Daphne. “Thank you!”

She leans in to kiss him on the cheek on her way to the shower, “Happy Birthday Darling.”

*

Daphne finishes replacing the bulb in his oven and stands up, wiping her hands on a dishtowel without much success at removing the residual grime from her hands, “All done.”

“Thank you,” Niles says as he holds out his hand to hers.

“I’m filthy,” she says, showing her dirty hands to him.

“I don’t care,” he says and she takes his hand and falls into step with him.

They dance in the kitchen and it is maybe the most romantic moment he’s ever experienced and he couldn’t even quite say why. The two of them swaying in the soft light of the oven, so simple and so miraculous. He has never been as happy in his whole life as he is when he’s with her, and the joy is not fading in the slightest.

“I had a vision,” Daphne says, her voice low and intimate, “Just now, of us dancing like this in 40 years.”

His heart leaps and aches and ascends to a higher state of being all at once, and it’s nothing at all like the way he used to ache for her before they were together. He rests his temple against hers as he makes no effort to keep the emotion from his voice, “It’s a date.”


End file.
